


Before the Moon

by Hordika, RedHairedMonkey



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Potential depiction of PTSD, between s3 and s4, rated t just to be safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hordika/pseuds/Hordika, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHairedMonkey/pseuds/RedHairedMonkey
Summary: Four years after Zym is returned to his mother, peace reigns over the world while humans and elves adjust to the new world. King Ezran maintains peace with Xadia while Callum uses his magic to bring hope to their people.But as an elven ritual approaches, Rayla, chief adviser to the king, struggles to make peace with the past.
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Marcos/Sabah (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 126





	1. Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a prequel to the upcoming "Through the Moon" graphic novel. It takes place some years after the end of Season 3. Callum and Rayla are on the edge of 19 and 20, respectively, while Ezran is 14. 
> 
> While there's a plot here, the story might meander a bit as it explores how everyone's lives had changed post-war. There's gonna be plenty of world-building and character-building involved. Enjoy!

Rayla isn’t sure how she found herself submerged, struggling below the waves. Her heart races and her chest tighten as she feels the pressure, like a cold watery fist, squeeze the breath out of her. 

The lit surface above stays out of reach. No matter how hard Rayla pushes herself, she can’t move any closer, and it takes more and more effort just to move her arms and legs. Saltwater brushes against her lips and invade her nose. Her body wants her to breathe in. She fights herself on this, resisting the urge for as long as she can.

Above, Rayla can see the silhouettes of three arms reaching out, trying to grab her and pull her to the surface. Yet she cannot reach them. But underneath her, a hand extends from the abyss, one that she _can_ reach.

Taking the risk, she swims downward and tries to take the hand. Her lungs are on fire, feeling like they are about to burst, but she tries to swim as fast as she can.

As soon as she grabs the hand, the water around her evaporates. Gusts of air burst forth from every direction, dispersing the waves as she finds herself falling, falling fast.

She falls through the clouds, the rocky wall of the Storm Spire at her back. But there’s no one around her.

Ralya looks up, hoping to see someone coming for her, hoping for a rescue. But there’s no one. No one at all.

She’s all alone, and no one is coming to save her.

Looking down, the ground comes into view. Rayla briefly registers this before the sudden stop.

***

Rayla jolts awake. Laying on her side, she grabs the fabric of the bed as she gasps for air, her heart still racing. The dream left her breathless, as she still feels the thumping of her chest in her ears.

She remembers Runaan’s training. _Steel yourself_ , he would say to her. _An assassin decides life and death, but the moment of truth has not yet come for you. Be in the present. Breathe and steady your hands._

And so, she takes several deep, calming breaths. In…out.

She wipes the sweat from her forehead and lays her head down again. Rayla’s had these dreams before, the ones where finds herself drowning or falling. It’s not unusual that she wakes up with her heart still racing. Since the Battle of the Storm Spire, everyone had gone home…but her mind is still there on the pinnacle.

Viren…her parents…Runaan…they are all there with her.

Rayla sighs. _Callum must have heard all of that_ , she thinks. She rolls over on her back, her hand reaching out to find…nothing.

“Callum?”

His side of the bed is empty. Rayla sits up and looks around the room. Quiet as a tomb, there’s no one around.

For a moment, she’s confused. Rayla’s hand works its way up to her neck, and she finds a garment tied around it. Looking down, she notices the red fabric and is relieved.

It’s Callum’s scarf.

She lays back down and sighs. Rayla now remembers the conversation they had yesterday. That today he would be flying to Belvin, a nearby town along the river, to help the farmers there. Callum must have left before dawn; he usually does when he senses an approaching cold front, one that would strengthen his Primal connection. When he does, he tries not to wake her, instead placing his scarf around the love of his life until he returns.

It’s not uncommon that Callum’s work as a High Mage sends him elsewhere. He’s tried his best to be a different, and better, servant of Katolis than Viren was. The Dark Mage would usually find himself tucked away in the library or his laboratory. Callum, on the other hand, finds himself in the skies, more often than not going from town to town, building roads, constructing dams, clearing out fields for farmland, and irrigating crops.

Rayla understands, she really does. His people need him, just as they need Ezran. But she can’t help but feel a little disappointed when he flies off like this. He's more likely to fly to a town somewhere—or to Xadia—than to remain in the castle.

But when he flies off so early she doesn’t even get to see him off, she feels a bit lonely. It’s not exactly selfish to want to be near one of her few pillars of support, especially while they’re living in a kingdom where thousands still hate or resent elves.

Almost as bad was getting used to living in Katolis as a royal guest. While the average Katolian may despise her, here in the castle, there are servants everywhere attending to her every need…even if she doesn’t want them too.

They bring her food when she looks hungry, open doors for her without asking, and bow whenever she walks past them. They address her with formal titles like “Lady Rayla” or “Her Ladyship,” and apologize profusely at the tiniest of transgressions.

Guards flank her when she’s in public, and there’s always at least one maid or footman within earshot. In one particularly embarrassing moment, she missed a step coming up some stairs and stumbled. No fewer than three people grabbed her and practically carried her up the stairs.

While Ez is amused at this, he has tried to have the castle tone the stifling treatment down a bit. Needless to say, old habits die hard, apparently.

Rayla slips into her clothes. It’s been a while since she’s worn her form-fitting assassin garb. These days she wears pants and shirts, woven by royal tailors, though still in green and black—her elven colors. However much else has changed, she’s still an elf of the Silvergrove.

She takes Callum’s scarf and ties it around herself. The red fabric clashes with her clothes, but she enjoys how it feels in her fingers and on her neck. It’s comforting…just like he is.

When she’s ready, she opens the door a tiny bit and peeks out. If she can somehow sneak out of her room without being accosted by one of these enthusiastically over-supportive staff members, Rayla would call that a win.

The coast is clear. There’s no one by the door or the halls. Rayla comes out and slowly makes her way down the hall, thinking that if she can just make it to the Throne Room and see Ez, she should be—

“Lady Rayla!” She hears a booming female voice flanking her left.

Rayla freezes in place. The sudden shouting feels like pin needles in her back. Turning around, her gaze meets Opeli’s.

“You’re awake,” she says. “Excellent. Allow me to walk with you to the Throne Room.”

“I know where it is,” she responds defensively.

“Please, I insist,” she gently replies with a knowing look in her smile. “I’m going there myself, and I’d appreciate having an elven warrior keep me company.”

Rayla’s eyes narrow. “Fine. I’ll do my best to keep you safe from rebellious curtains and deadly carpeting.”

Opeli chuckles softly as she walks alongside her. The move in silence for a while before Opeli speaks. “I also wanted to have the chance to tell you that Prince Callum wanted me to find you this morning.”

“He did?”

Opeli nods. “The Prince asked that you come to meet him out in Bevlin.” The High Cleric gave her a wink. “It sounds like he has a surprise for you.”

Rayla lets herself relax, and she smiles warmly. “Thank you. I’m thrilled to hear that,” she says softly. _Maybe it would be good to get away from the castle for a while_ , she thinks.

Opeli seems to notice what Rayla’s thinking. “I know the people of this castle, myself included, can be a bit much.” She looks at Rayla. “We don’t mean to be overbearing, it’s just that we all want you to feel like you’re not an outsider.” She places a comforting hand on Rayla’s shoulder. “Like part of the family.”

Rayla smiles sweetly as she puts a hand on Opeli’s. “Thank you. And I’m grateful to feel like I belong here. It’s just that the royal life is…something I haven’t gotten used to.”

Opeli laughs good-naturedly. “It was rough for a few years for me too. When I first arrived at the castle, it was such a shock. There was a member of the royal staff hiding around every corner, behind every column. I thought one might even jump out of my tea!”

The two women share a laugh. Opeli points at her neck. “That scarf is a nice look for you.”

Rayla nods, smiling delightfully as she fiddles with the tail end of the fabric. “I do want to get going to Bevlin,” Rayla continues. “But first, I want to stop by the Throne Room to see Ezran first.”

“Ah,” Opeli says. “You wouldn’t hear the end of it if you left before finding him.”

Rayla has a smile on her face as she walks into the Throne Room. Almost immediately, she is glomped by Ezran, while Opeli peels off and leaves the two of them together.

“Thank goodness, you’re here!” he exclaims.

“W-well yea!” she stumbles. “You think I’d just wander off without seeing you first? Silly King.”

As he backs away, Rayla has to look up to meet his gaze. At fourteen, Ezran is almost taller than her (though, as Rayla keeps reminding him, horns still count). He’s slim now, sporting a boyish grin and braided hair.

“You should get something to eat first,” he says. “Get ready for a… _lively_ breakfast.”

Rayla is confused at first, but when she looks over to sees Amaya and Gren on one side of the map displaying Katolis, she figures out what Ez is getting at.

General Fen—who Ezran had recently promoted—stands on the far side from Gren and Amaya. After peace was achieved, Ez significantly reduced Katolis' forces on the Breach. He sent Amaya's entire garrison back to capital…where they can hear them continuously bicker and argue.

Fen has become quite confident in himself after his promotion. Confident _and_ abrasive, he would always be questioning Amaya and bickering with her and Gren. Perhaps about troop positions. Or castle security. Or uniform colors! Every day is a different problem with them.

For the last few years, Rayla had worked tirelessly as Ez’s principal elven advisor. Peace took as much effort as war, and as a Moonshadow elf, she was a perfect liaison to Xadia. Ezran learned quite a bit about elven customs and politics through her, all of which went a long way in achieving diplomatic relations.

Rayla grabs a plate of moonberries with toast and walks over to take a seat near Gren, listening to the argument for herself.

She sighs, as it turns out to be the same old argument as before.

“General,” Fen begins. “I’m just presenting the facts as they are. Prince Callum’s talents with magic are well known. Yet he’s been mostly used his abilities to help townsfolk. Farmers, sailors, and fishermen. But his skills have some…combat potential as well. Perhaps if we could include him in the army’s chain of command, we could greatly improve our arsenal—”

Amaya shoots up from her seat so suddenly that Rayla felt the air around her quake with energy. As she signs, Gren translates for her, placing emphasis on the right words.

“My _nephew_ ,” Gren begins. “Is not a weapon.”

Fen raises his hands defensively. “I-I’m fully aware. But our forces still haven’t recovered from the Battle of the Storm Spire. We have Del Bar and Evenere on one border, elven pirates and smugglers on the other. The Prince must serve his Kingdom. It’s worth _considering_ that Callum should lend a hand with national defense from time to time.”

Amaya shakes her head. “You’ve talked to him before about this, and he refused. I will not strongarm him into one of your regiments.”

Ezran raises a hand, interrupting the conversation. In an instant, the tension in the room fades away, like a ray of light dispersing shadow. Rayla’s impressed at how good Ez has gotten at commanding a room.

“Let’s move on,” Ezran says. “We have an agenda to keep up with. Many other priorities to discuss. For starters, the ancient “Blue Moon” ritual will be observed on the Moon Nexus for the first time since the division of Xadia. Some Moonshadow elves will be crossing the Breach to visit, and I want plans to be made to bring a group of humans to observe.”

A warm smile graces Rayla’s lips. She’s heard of this ritual in school, taking place each time there’s a second full moon in a month. On that second moon, Moonshadow elves would gather at the Moon Nexus to play music and dance into the night, creating incredible magic with their ceremony.

However, after the Judgment of the Half Moon, Xadia was split into two. The Moon Nexus lay on the Human side of the world, so for a thousand years, this ritual was abandoned.

But now, Rayla gets to be one of the first Moonshadow elves to see the Blue Moon ritual. All because three plucky kids carried a Dragon Egg to the other side of the world.

As Rayla looks at Ezran, words cannot describe how grateful she is for all he’s done.

Amaya beams at Gren and nods.

“We agree,” Gren speaks for her. “We should do all we can to prepare.” They both turn to look at Rayla. “Perhaps our elven advisor has some ideas.”

Caught unprepared with a Moonberry in her mouth, she stands up and quickly straightens herself. “Absolutely,” she coughs. “I can write up a list of gifts you can bring to the Moon Nexus.”

“Of course, we shouldn’t forget to bring a sizable number of soldiers to protect the King,” Fen points out.

Amaya shakes her head. “We’re not going to start a war on the Moon Nexus.”

As the three begin to bicker again, Ezran discreetly signals to Rayla with his hands close to his lap. She’s gotten familiar enough with sign language to pick up what he’s saying.

_You should get going. They’ll be at this for a while._

Rayla stands up, signs _goodbye_ to Ezran, and heads out the door. She walks down the hallway and out into the courtyard. As she makes her way down the yard, she finds herself face to face with a familiar smug smile.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Soren says, crossing his arms.

Soren now permanently sports a beard, though he never lets it grow out much. A man in his twenties, he's become much kinder and more thoughtful, though his goofy side always shows through.

“Good to see you too,” she tells him. “I’m actually just here to grab a horse and head out for the day.”

“Funny you should mention that!” Soren replies as he’s pointing behind them. “I’m supposed to assign a Crownguard escort to take you to Belvin. Ez heard that you’ll be heading out there and wanted someone to come with you.”

Rayla is a bit amused by this—when she first came to Katolis, she _fought_ the Crownguard. Now, one would be guarding her.

“I...appreciate the thought,” she says. “But I can take care of myself. There’s nothing in that small town I couldn’t handle.

Soren rolls his eyes. “Naturally. But that’s not the only concern. Plenty of townspeople still hate elves. By having a Crownguard with you, it would show that you have the Crown’s full support and protection. That you’re one of us now.”

She raises a brow.

“That’s pretty clever,” Rayla quips. “Did you come up with that all by yourself?”

Soren shoots her a scowl. “…it might have been Ez’s idea, actually.”

Before Rayla can argue, Soren raises both his hands. “Look, I get it. I wouldn’t want a guard on my tail all the time,” he places a hand on her shoulder. “But Ez would be worried sick all day if he knew you were out there alone. Can you do him this one small thing?”

Rayla eyes narrow before, finally, she relents.

“You owe me one,” she says, pointing at Soren.

He smirks again. “I owe you twelve.”

At the stable, Rayla finds a horse and quickly ties a saddle and mounts up. When she’s ready to ride out, Soren’s appointed Crownguard comes to meet her at the castle gates.

Turns out, it’s Marcos.

Rayla breathes a sigh of relief. Soren was more thoughtful than she gave him credit for. Many of the Crownguard still look at her with wary eyes and cautious stares. On the ready in case she attacks someone. They see her only as a Moonshadow assassin, and nothing more.

But not Marcos. Ever since Rayla returned to Katolis, Marcos has _always_ been kind and courteous to her. The fact that she spared his life might have helped shift his perspective on elves. His new Sunfire sweetheart, Sabah, likely helped as well.

But Rayla thinks there’s more to that. People like Marcos, like Soren, and like Corvus, try to be honorable, just, and moral. It didn’t take much for any of them to do the right thing, because doing the right thing comes naturally to them.

Maybe that’s why Rayla feels so comfortable around Marcos.

As she approaches him, he turns to face her and bows.

“Lady Rayla,” he says, though his amused smile tells her he’s having a bit of fun.

“Careful now,” she jokes. “You wouldn’t want to _offend_ her Ladyship with inappropriate humor. I might just run off to tell the King!”

“If that is what her Ladyship wishes, so it will be.”

Rayla rolls her eyes. “Ugh, how you can do that without cracking up, I’ll never know.”

Marcos stands back up and takes off his helmet. “Really, it’s staying serious in the face of silliness that’s the hardest part about this job.”

Rayla snorts as she climbs up on her mount. “I’d make a terrible Crownguard, then.”

The two ride together out of the castle and on to the road leading to Belvin. Marcos keeps pace with Rayla, trying his best to come across more like a companion rather than a bodyguard.

“Are you happy to get out of there?” he asks her.

She nods. “I don’t get to leave the castle as often as Callum does. Ez usually needs my help.”

“I can imagine why,” he replies. “It’s thanks to you that relations with the elves are so good!”

Rayla snorts. “Diplomacy is a group effort.”

Marcos turns to look at her. “I don’t just mean that,” he says with a smile. “If it wasn’t for you, things would not have changed like they did.”

A warm chuckle escapes her. Even years later, she fondly remembers her journey with Ez and Callum. “Well, that _too_ was a group effort…and as I remember, _you_ were there to help as well!”

Marcos and Rayla keep talking during the trip, all the way to Belvin. They enter the busy little town by the river and make their way to the town square. Rayla’s never been here before, though Callum says they would have passed it if they kept traveling by boat toward Xadia. The square is packed with people and carts and horses, with the occasional stray chicken or dog running loose between the sea of legs. It’s loud, and a bit chaotic, but the kind of spontaneity and motion that Rayla noticed is ordinary in human towns.

As Rayla and Marcos carefully maneuver through the crowds on horseback, she notes to herself the cold and piercing glares looking at her. It reminds her of the first time she came to Katolis Castle as Ezran’s guest. The confusion and the hostility that met her when she first walked through those gates isn’t something one forgets so readily.

It’s the same confusion and hostility she finds in Belvin.

Rayla sees an angry-looking passerby moving up too close to them. He’s clearly hiding something in his jacket. Still, Marcos scares him away with a dirty look, reminding him that Rayla is a member of the royal family in all but name.

“Maybe having me come along was a good idea,” he mutters.

Rayla grits her teeth. “Four years, and it’s like nothing had changed.”

Marcos nods. “It’s nothing personal. Katolians don’t look fondly at outsiders, elf or human…though someday they’ll realize you’re not an outsider anymore.”

Rayla spots a woman turn to look at the sky, gaping and with awe in her gaze.

“Look!!” she yells, and all eyes turn upward. Some people start cheering, everyone is smiling.

Rayla turns around and spots a break in the clouds above. A figure dives down through the clouds and extends its wings. Joy bubbles up in Rayla, and she can’t contain her blissful smile.

_Callum._

He glides over the rooftops of Belvin as the crowds applaud down below him.

As he flies away from the town, Rayla turns to look at Marcos. “We should pick up the pace,” she tells him.

Marcos nods, and the two gallop out of the town square and into the field towards Callum. They see him fly over a bend in the river that spills into a small lake. He twists and turns in the air, and he leaves a bright glow in his flight path. His circles around as a rune begins to form.

“Aspiro frigis!” Rayla hears him yell. He blows freezing wind and forms a wall of ice on the river, stopping the flow of water into the lake.

As he flies away, Marcos and Rayla continue to make their way to the ice wall. They cross into the forest, and by the ice, they spot a group of farmers that have gathered alongside piles of logs and bricks.

She points in their direction. “I think that’s where we need to go.” As they slow down to a comfortable pace, Rayla sees Callum through the canopy above them, catching just a brief glimpse of his winged form.

He passes above, having not noticed them below the trees. He lands just a short bit ahead of them on a tree branch overlooking the farmers, draping a wing around the trunk. The gathered men and women turn to listen to him.

“Alright, then,” Rayla and Marcos hear him say. “The ice wall will hold for a few hours, so that should give you enough time to build the dam and redirect some of the water to the eastern crops.” His free wing points to his right.

Rayla sees everyone just stare at him, perhaps a little stunned by the winged prince before them, perched on a branch.

“Uh, _now_ would be good!” He commands, and the farmers take off, hauling logs and other materials up to the ice wall.

He sighs and lands gently and gracefully on the ground below.

Rayla climbs off her horse, and with a mischievous smile on her face, she hands Marcos her reins and presses a finger to her lips, asking him to stay quiet. He rolls his eyes, grinning, but nods his head.

She carefully sneaks toward him, observing him from behind. Gradually, his wings fade away, replaced by arms.

Rayla stops for a moment just to look at him. He wipes sweat off his forehead before taking his fingerless gloves out from his pocket and putting them on.

Her heart beats a little faster just by watching him. He has something of a swimmer’s build now; his sleeveless shirt made it easy to see his broad, square shoulders. The taut muscles on his arms and back are evidence of how far his journey into magehood had taken him.

At eighteen years old, Callum is by no means a scrawny kid anymore. He has quite a bit of size and definition now, something Rayla can clearly see as Callum scratches the back of his head.

Seeing him, she remembers how Runaan used to look at Ethari. When she was younger, she was always confused by how he was so enamored by his husband’s muscular figure. Runaan simply told her that she’ll understand when she’s older.

He was right. Ralya understands it now. Staring at Callum, she _really_ does.

She continues to quietly move closer, trying not to alert him.

Callum chuckles. “You know you can’t sneak up on me, right?”

Rayla lets out a sigh. He’s paid enough attention to her lessons in stealth that he’s gotten quite good at noticing her.

“Are you sure you’re not part-Moonshadow, Callum?”

He turns to face her, and she sees that adorable goofy grin he’s always had. Callum’s grown so much over the years, but some things never change.

Rayla runs up to embrace him. He’s much taller than her, enough that she can comfortably fit her head under his chin.

“I wasn’t expecting you here,” he says. “I thought I’d just meet you in town after I was done.”

She gives him an affectionate squeeze. “You know I’m not a fan of waiting around.”

As they part, Callum notices Marcos behind her and gives him a friendly wave. Rayla turns to face him while Callum’s hands remain on her shoulders.

Marcos smirks and nods his head. “My Prince. Are you headed back to the castle today?”

Callum tilts his head. “Later. There’s something I wanted to show, uh, her _Ladyship_ before we go home.”

She playfully elbows him in the stomach.

The Crownguard lets out a laugh. “Then it looks like my job is done! I’ll take both horses back with me to the castle and…give you two some space.” He gives them a wink and leaves with both horses.

As soon as he was out of sight, Rayla turns around to plant her lips on Callum’s. It looks like he had the same idea, as the two crash into each other, locking one another in a joyful moment.

Rayla gets tired standing on the edge of her toes just to reach him, so she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to meet her halfway. He grunts, but complies; powerful mage or not, he’s still her Callum.

Before long, their lips parted. Rayla’s hands make their way down to his chest, and she’s impressed how sturdy Callum is. Like one of those marble statues she sees around the castle.

She takes off the scarf and wraps it around Callum.

“Was this the surprise?” Rayla asks when she finishes tying the scarf. “A private makeout session in the woods?”

Callum shakes his head, and wordlessly takes her hand and guides her to a clearing. At the edge of the river, he points to a large hill occupying the far side of the river.

“We need to make our way there,” he shoots her a smile. “Need a ride?”

“Do you even need to ask?” She hops on his back and curls her arms around his chest. Callum turns his head to face her and gives her a quick kiss.

“Hold on tight!” he says as he extends his arms. “Manus! Pluma! Volantus!”

Two by two, the runes on his arms light up. He leaps into the air before using his wings to soar into the sky.

He flips around in the air, taking them far above the lake and toward the clouds. He takes a few acrobatic dives and spins as he makes their way across the river.

Rayla is used to his twist and turns. She remembers how, years ago, Callum could barely fly for a few minutes before he was exhausted. Flying took a _lot_ of cardio and a vast amount of upper body strength. But over time, thanks to his training, he was able to fly for longer and longer periods, until now he can fly for hundreds of miles without needing a break.

He lands by the bank of the river and lets her slide off him.

“That wasn’t showboaty at all!” Rayla pokes fun at him.

Callum merely chuckles as his arms return to normal. “Sometimes, taking the scenic route is so much more fun!”

“Oh, really?” Rayla retorts. “Is that what that was?”

Callum focuses on the woods ahead of them.

“It’s just on the top of this hill, through the trees,” he points. When as he looks at her, he sports a grin. “Race you to the top!”

He takes off before Rayla can answer.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” She yells, exasperated. Callum could have quickly flown them up there, but apparently, he wants to make a game of it.

She takes off after him, leaping between treetops and branches and sprinting up the hill. But no matter how much she pushes herself, Callum managed to stay ahead.

Callum once told her that, among many other things, Sky Magic is about “quickness” and “agility.” And thanks to his mage training, Callum now has both in enormous quantities. He was never one to take shortcuts, especially not when it came to magic.

Rayla’s a bit frustrated. When they first met, four years ago, she was the more physically capable one. The shoe is on the other foot now; Callum is _phenomenally_ fast, perhaps faster than any human in Katolis. It’s impossible to catch up to him if he doesn’t want to be caught.

She finds him at the pinnacle of the hill, just as her lungs were about to give out. Rayla pants as she crouches down and grabs her knees.

Callum is only a little out of breath and gives her a smile. “That was fun! You almost caught—"

“Don’t patronize me,” Rayla grumbles to him.

He stretches out his arms and takes a deep breath. “Check out the view here! It’s gorgeous!”

Rayla gets back up and looks around. Sure enough, she could see the entire lake from there, sparkling under the sun. A little further out, they can see Belvin, and beyond that, Katolis Castle itself looming in the distance.

“It’s beautiful,” she agrees.

She sees him walk to the center of the pinnacle, and for the first time, she notices a pot sitting there on a large piece of a table cloth.

“I left these here this morning. I think you’ll like it!” He motions to the pot. “Sur-prise!”

He opens the pot, pulling out several smaller containers, and amidst the steam, he lays out some kind of flatbread. Rayla crouches down and feels it’s sponge-like texture.

“Wait,” she says. “Is…this…?

“Yup!” Callum places various sauces exotic-looking food on top of it. “Tajita bread! An Earthblood delicacy. One of your favorites, right?”

Rayla gapes at him. “…it is, but where did you get it?!”

He continues laying out the dishes. “On one of my trips to Xadia, I stumbled upon a town of Earthblood elves.”

“Earthblood elves?” She grins. “What did they think of your impression?”

“Shush,” he smiles. “Anyway, they showed me how to make this kind of food. I followed their recipe, carried this pot with me here on my way to Belvin…do you like it?”

Rayla beams at him. “I love it!” She almost knocks him down when she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Oof!” he exclaims. He sits down, crosses his legs and curls his arms around her. “I’m glad this trip was worth it then!”

“I didn’t need elven food to come all this way,” she whispers. “You’re enough for me.”

Callum tenderly tucks her hair behind her ear, and he presses his lips against hers. Rayla tucks her legs under herself and scoots closer to him.

Smirking, he lifts her up and repositions her in his lap, placing one arm under her knees and another on her back. Rayla’s a bit surprised how effortless he made it seem.

“Callum,” she chuckles her face flushes red. “I sometimes forget how strong you’ve gotten.”

While Rayla has always been very light, it's a bit annoying how Callum can easily pick her up without her being able to do much about it. Try as she might, he’s pretty damn strong.

Occasionally he may tease her about it, but in their most intimate moments, he is _so_ gentle with her. Callum is always careful around her, and he would _never_ hurt her.

A quiet moment passes, and Rayla notices that his green eyes remain fixed on her.

She smirks as she leans back. “You like what you see?”

Rayla sees his face redden a little. “Oh! Uh…I zoned out for a second.”

She laughs good-naturedly. “It’s been four years, and you _still_ get lost in my eyes? Moon Above, how do I have such an effect on you?”

Callum shrugs. “I’m not complaining.” As he kisses her again, she places one arm on his shoulder and another around his head.

Rayla rests her forehead against his. “I’m _so_ happy I found you, Callum,” she says, looking into his eyes. “…I love you.”

She sees his cheeks rise as he smiles. “I love you too.”


	2. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum and Rayla return to Katolis Castle, and each reflects on their own worst fears.

The flight back to Katolis Castle was a short one. Belvin was closer than most places Callum has traveled to.

But as they approached the capital, he hears Rayla’s voice mutter into his back.

“Could we do another loop around the castle?” She gently urges him. “I like the view from up here.”

With a smile, he banks left and continues past the gates. Callum feels Rayla adjust her grip, the side of her face nuzzled against him. She’s really grown to love flying with him, enjoying their quiet moments together high above Katolis, where none of the mundane concerns below can reach them.

It took no time or effort for Callum to enjoy flying. He _loves_ the freedom he now gets to have, his wings a reminder that Callum can indeed do anything he sets his mind to. That his destiny is written by him and him alone.

Rayla also loves flying with him, but for a different reason, it seems. She told Callum that flying reminds her how he can _always_ keep her safe, no matter where they are. When she remembers how he caught her out of the sky as she was plunging to her death, Rayla tells him she’s confident no harm will ever come to her as long as Callum is nearby.

But that moment still bothers Callum, from time to time. He remembers it vividly; he raced up to the pinnacle and was only a few steps away from Rayla before she tackled Viren off the edge. She was just out of reach and remained out of reach even as they fell. He was _so_ close to losing her forever, and if he hadn’t been fast enough or strong enough, he very well could have.

His mind wanders back to this moment when he almost _couldn’t_ protect her. Despite how much he’s grown since then, Callum still worries whether everything he has learned will ever be enough. If Claudia returns, if anyone he loves—Rayla, Ezran, Soren—ever come into danger…will he be able to save them?

_Maybe not…but I will always try_ , Callum silently promises to them. _No matter what happens… I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe._

Rayla and Callum land in a field just at the edge of town. As Rayla slips off his back, Callum’s wings return to a human form. A few people still stare and gawk at them, but most of everyone at this point has gotten used to the Crown Prince of Katolis and his mage wings.

As they stroll through the town, Callum pays special attention to any stares and sudden movements. To his left, just in his periphery, he spots a menacing glare, so he turns to meet the man’s gaze. As Callum puts an arm around Rayla and pulls her toward him, he glowers at the man, who freezes in his tracks. A moment later, he meekly wanders away.

Looking at Rayla, Callum notes she seems a little put-off. She dislikes it when he hovers over her like that, but to be fair, she also stands up for him when they traveled in Xadia. It’s par for the course in their relationship.

“Try not to scare too many people that way,” she says. “The people here shouldn’t be frightened of their own Crown Prince.”

Callum shakes his head. “It’s only the troublemakers that that are frightened.”

“I’m not so sure they’re the only ones who have been,” she turns to look at him. There’s a bit of concern in her expression, a bit of unease. He knows what she’s referring to.

Months ago, they had visited a tavern just outside the castle (her idea, not his). Everything was fine until a man came up to them and slapped her. Before Rayla could react, Callum lunged at him. The man was no match for a mage, and Callum ended up breaking the patron’s arm.

The crowd was up in arms, and Callum had never seen Ezran so angry with him, but he refused to admit he did anything wrong. His younger brother wouldn’t speak to him for a week, and even after that, Soren sometimes had to mediate between them.

“I understand why you did that,” she insists. “But you shouldn’t have. You know I can handle myself.”

He lets go of her but shook his head. “Rayla, you know I’m going to fight beside you no matter what. I’ve got your back.”

She looks at him. “The man was drunk and clearly didn’t know what he was getting himself into…you could have at least gone a little easier on him.”

“He could have had a knife on him. One lucky shot and he could have nicked an artery.”

“You’re their Prince,” she answers. “People shouldn’t be intimidated by you. Sometimes you have to think through the consequences.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes. He purses his lips as he calms down, trying not to make a mountain out of a molehill.

“Rayla…you sound like you care more about what people think of me than staying alive.”

She glares at him. “Those aren’t the only two options, you know. You’re a big guy, you could have just restrained him until a guard could take him away.”

Callum closes his eyes. “I…didn’t think of that at the time.”

“Well, you are one of the smartest people I know. Smart enough to figure that out. And how people see you _is_ important. At the rate you’re going, Callum, people are going to be more afraid of you than they are of me.”

She smirks as she pokes his side. “I’ve got your back too. Don’t forget that.”

Her good-natured smile was infectious, and Callum found himself grinning too. “I know,” he says. “Even though sometimes I forget.”

Rayla’s hand works its way up his back. “Well, don’t.”

They make their way into the castle walls, walking across a courtyard. Callum hears a familiar voice call him by a familiar name.

“Hey, how’s it going, mage boy?” Soren asks as he lifts his sword behind his back. “Didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow.”

Callum shakes his head. “I finished everything I needed to out there.”

“Good,” Soren’s eyes narrow as he lifts his sword to his front. “Then maybe you got time for a little match.”

The Prince chuckles softly and crosses his arms. “Maybe when I’m feeling a little less tired, we can have another go-around.”

“Oh?” Soren quips. “I didn’t think the little Prince gets so chicken when he hasn’t had his nap.”

Callum sighs and rolls his eyes. He knows he’s just toying with him, but it’s too much to resist. He turns his head over to Rayla and smiles out of one corner of his mouth. When she places her hand on his shoulder, he already knows what she’s going to say.

“Kick his ass, Callum,” she smirks. But as he walks to the weapon rack to retrieve his staff, he hears Rayla suddenly qualify. “B-but not too hard this time!”

He simply waves his hand, acknowledging what she’s saying while keeping the same pace. Callum lifts his staff from the rack, and a small spark emanates from the blue Sky Primal stone glowing bright between two golden blades.

His staff was once his mother’s spear, many years ago. But after she died, and his step-dad used it to take revenge on the Dragon King, it became a reminder of the pain and suffering both sides had inflicted on each other.

Callum knew he couldn’t just leave it at the Storm Spire, impaled in the fallen Avizandum. In his hands, perhaps he could remake the spear’s function and purpose. Turn the symbol of vengeance into a symbol of protection, a promise of peace. A way for Callum to look after his people and his loved ones…just as his mother once did.

And so, while training with Ibis, he went through great efforts to retrieve the spear from the petrified body, against the Skywing elf’s advice. He journeyed with Lux Aurea and pleaded with Queen Janai to have it purified. Having lost her own grandmother _and_ her sister, she knew the importance of family and legacy better than most.

Once rid of the taint of Dark Magic, Callum went to work training with Ibis to use it. The mage helped show practical ways to wield the spear as his own, tracing runes quickly and efficiently. Wielding the staff took great coordination, and tracing runes required just the right amount of pressure and torque to make precise motions.

As he spent countless hours practicing with it, using the staff was quite intuitive for Callum. The motions became muscle memory for him, and he took to the principles of wielding the weapon like ducks take to water.

It was nothing like holding a sword. Callum’s fingers gripped the staff much more naturally. He felt a great deal more freedom and creativity than he ever did with one of Soren’s blades.

Before long, Callum felt the staff become an extension of himself, something he can effortlessly spin between his fingers and around his head. He can be a formidable opponent with it even without magic.

But it was when Callum’s training with Ibis was finally complete that his old friend gave him the most precious of parting gifts—a small Primal Stone. When Callum added this final piece to his mother’s spear, he felt that it had truly become his own.

As Callum walks toward Soren, the young mage spins the staff around his back. He takes a deep breath as he loosened his joints to get the juices flowing, until he’s standing right in front of the seasoned Crownguard.

Callum is a few inches taller than Soren now, something that Callum constantly teases him about. Soren’s a bit in denial, always insisting that there’s something of a slope between them and that Callum must be standing uphill from him.

As Soren approaches, Callum holds out a palm to stop him. The Crownguard captain looks mildly annoyed.

“Hold on,” Callum says, pulling his arm behind his back. He bends over to work the knots out of his back. “Gotta stretch. I don’t want to pull a muscle or something.”

“Can’t pull what you don’t have,” Soren says, with a smirk.

Callum stares at Soren for a brief, intense second before picking up his staff again. “Alright, Crownguard. You’re going down. You’ll eat those words and half the rocks in this courtyard!”

Soren spins his blade in his hand, and around his waist, before taking aim at Callum. Clearly, he riled up the Prince in just the way he intended.

“C’mon Prince,” he says, relishing the moment. “Make me!”

Callum lets Soren make the first strike. He parries Soren’s first attack then the second in quick succession. He allows Soren to overextend himself, and seeing an opening, Callum pushes his blade to the ground and uses the resistance to vault into the air.

He backflips and is behind Soren before he registers what happened. Swinging around with his staff, Callum hits him in the legs and sends Soren to the ground.

It’s over before it barely began.

“Four seconds,” Callum says. “I think that’s a new record.”

Soren grumbles as he rolls onto his back. “Sweep the leg,” he mutters. “Really? Again?”

The young mage shrugs. “You were wide open,” he says as he helps him to his feet.

“I guess that’s on me then,” Soren laughs softly. “Between you and Rayla, it looks like sweeping the leg is absolutely a thing in sword-fighting!”

Callum spins the staff in his hand and stabs the blade into the stone floor. “Although, to be fair, I’m not actually sword-fighting.”

Soren shakes his head. “Nope, but you found what works for you, haven’t you?”

He’s a little surprised at Soren being so gracious, even in defeat. “Yea…I guess I have,” Callum says as he nervously scratches the back of his head. “But, you know in hindsight, your training actually helped! Especially the whole, uh, _art_ of defense.”

The Crownguard made a warm smile. “Glad I could help! I know I picked on you a lot, and I didn’t know any better. But you know I always felt like you were my little brother, right? I wasn’t ever the best at teaching you, but I really did want to see you find your footing…”

He places a hand on Callum’s shoulder. “…and, I’m thrilled that you did, Callum. I’m proud of you.”

Callum’s smile turns abashed at the sudden burst of sincerity. “Soren…” He mutters as the two young men embrace.

Callum is happy he and Soren get along so well now. But as he lifts Soren into the air, he suddenly feels his hand frantically tapping on Callum’s back.

“Callum!” he croaks. “Can’t…breathe!”

As Callum lets him down, Soren gasps for air.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Callum freaks out, but Soren just waves him off, still clutching his knees.

“It’s alright,” he says hoarsely. “It was a good workout for my lungs!”

Soren lets out a chuckle and lightly socks him on the shoulder. “Damn, Callum. Remind me not to challenge you to an arm-wrestling match!”

“Uh, no worries!” Callum smiles awkwardly. “Let’s…just go for a handshake.”

After they shake hands, Callum grabs his staff and places it back in the weapons rack and races back to Rayla, who gently shakes her head.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You didn’t need to embarrass him like that.”

Callum stares at her, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? It was just a friendly match! Soren threw in a few good moves too.”

Rayla laughs softly. “It was pretty one-sided, and the other Crownguards were watching. You could have gone a little easier on him.”

He crosses his arms. “Rayla, it’s not a big deal. It’s no different than when he used to knock me down in front of everyone in the courtyard.”

“And how did that feel?”

Callum silently glares at her. She’s right, and he knows it. _It felt like I was a failure,_ he thinks. _And everyone could watch me fail._

“It’s great that you can fight well now,” Rayla says. “All I’m saying is that sparring is about more than just who wins. It’s about practicing, getting a good workout, and even having fun. When we spar, Callum, you don’t feel the need to crank out a win in five seconds.”

He grins at her. “ _Four_ seconds.” She gives him a light shove, but even she couldn’t pretend not to smile.

Callum and Rayla head inside, passing guards and staff on their way through the castle. They turn a corner and make their way to the stairs leading to his—well, _their_ —room. At the foot of the stairs, Callum feels her tug on his hand.

“What is it?” he turns to Rayla.

Rayla looks somewhat puzzled. “You don’t expect me to walk all those steps on my own, right?”

He’s not sure what to make of that. This flight of stairs only had five steps, and Rayla wasn’t injured. She was walking just fine on their route through the castle.

“Um, Rayla, it’s just some stairs. It’s the same ones we use to get to our room.”

Suddenly she lets out a dramatic gasp, placing the back of her hand on her forehead, and leans against the banister. 

“But our journey was so long! It’s left me so tired and weak, I might just faint at any moment! I can feel my legs about to give out! Oh, Callum, won’t you be a gentleman and carry me to safety?”

Callum frowns and rolls his eyes, making sure it’s obvious enough for her to see. She’s done this so many times before, and despite warding off guards and servants, insisting she can do everything herself, around Callum, she suddenly insists upon what she calls the “royal” treatment.

He hangs his head back and lets out a long, defeated sigh. “Alright, fine.”

Rayla giggles as he places an arm under her knees, another on her back, and lifts her up. Callum takes her over the five small steps and continues walking down the hall.

“It’s so great to have a big strong mage around,” she observes as she affectionately rubs his arm.

She’s enjoying this way too much, which only annoys Callum further. Visibly enough for Rayla to notice.

“Oh c’mon, Callum. Like this is really that hard for you?”

It really wasn’t. Rayla has always been very light, and it’s not like he hasn’t been flying her around for the last four years. Still, it’s the principle that bothers him.

“You were an assassin,” he grumbles. “I’ve seen you somersault between tree branches like it’s not big deal, and somehow you can’t make it up some steps on your own?”

“Careful now,” Rayla chuckles as she speaks. “That’s no way to talk to Her Ladyship. Keep that up, and I’ll have to tell the King!”

Callum finally eases up, letting his lips curl into a smile. “Please don’t. If word gets out I’ve been chauffeuring you everywhere, he’s gonna want a ride too. And you wouldn’t want _that,_ would you?”

She smirks at him. “I suppose I wouldn’t. I’d hate to have to share my flying stallion.”

It was his turn to chuckle. He lets himself enjoy the moment. “Your flying Prince,” he corrects her.

Rayla beams at him, and her hand brushes through his cheek as it makes its way to his hair. She presses their foreheads together.

“Yes, _my_ Prince,” she whispers. “My one and only.”

Callum feels a rush as they share this moment together. “You’re my favorite,” he whispers.

Rayla snorts quite unbecomingly. “I _better_ be your favorite,” she says, lifting her head to look at him. “I had to wear your smelly scarf to save your life!”

He lets out a chuckle. “You did, didn’t you?” Callum takes a moment to look into her eyes, slowing his walk down to a crawl. She’s small in his arms. He doesn’t tell her enough how beautiful she is. Her violet eyes are mesmerizing, her smile and sharp wit never fail to brighten his day.

She’s absolutely breathtaking, and every day he wakes up inspired by her bravery, her strength, and her compassion.

Rayla flushes under his stare. “What?” she gently whispers.

Callum places a kiss on her lips and feels her hands card through his hair. He looks into her eyes again as he speaks.

“You are everything to me.”

She doesn’t look nervous anymore. As though she knew Callum feels this way. As though she feels the same.

“Callum…you’re my whole world,” she says, as they finally arrive at their room.

*** 

Callum awakes at dawn, suddenly and abruptly. He feels something grip him tightly. Looking down, he sees Rayla, fast asleep on his chest, her silvery-white hair splayed across his body, her hand idly resting on his shoulder.

But he sees her struggle, unconsciously, against an unknown force. Her face jolts from side to side as she whimpers. She keeps fidgeting, and Callum feels her breathing become panicky, and her heart rate skyrockets.

“C…Ca…Cal…” she mutters. Rayla holds him tight, as though instinctively knowing he’s there to support her. Yet she can’t seem to wake up, only continuing to wince and groan.

“Rayla,” he whispers. “Rayla!”

Her eyes flutter open, and she stops moving for a moment. She takes several deep, measured breaths, before looking up at Callum.

“Mm…sorry,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Don’t be…was it the same dream as before?”

Rayla nods her head. “It’s _always_ the same thing…drowning…then falling…” She stops speaking as he feels her tremble against him. Callum brings his arms around her, as though trying to soothe her.

This has happened every now and again, though with more frequency as of late. Rayla would have these same dreams over and over, and even though it helps to sleep near Callum, recently even that wasn’t enough.

When Rayla is willing to talk about them—she’s gotten much better about the whole “big feelings time”—it usually involves her fears about her parents. Even with his spell, Callum wasn’t able to tell precisely what happened to them. Viren cast some kind of Dark Magic spell on them. But did it kill them? Did it trap them?

Callum betted it was the former, but Rayla wasn’t convinced. She said that Viren held a bag of coins in front of her, calling it his “Moonshadow elf collection.” Those words never left her. What was in that collection? Her parents? If they were turned into coins, could they be turned back?

This inevitably became an issue about Viren himself. No one was able to find his body. Good riddance, Callum had thought. But no Viren meant no coins. And Rayla’s fear over her parents morphed into a fear that Viren, somehow, against any explanation, was able to get up and walk away.

No one else believes that. Even Callum sometimes worries that Rayla is letting her fixation over those coins turn into a twisted hope that Viren will be found alive. Still, she insists that an Archmage like him couldn’t be killed by something so trivial as a fall. And so, she lives between nightmares, between hope and fear.

Callum, fortunately, doesn’t have his own nightmares. _Unfortunately_ , though, his fears live with him in the present, rather than dwell in the subconscious. Though it never overwhelms him, he’s worried that the next time something threatens the people he cares the most about, he won’t be able to save them. With Claudia still out there, that kind of threat is not at all that unrealistic…

…but his mind returns to Rayla. He places a gentle kiss in the space between her horns, and she shifts to bury her face into his neck.

“I’m here,” is all he says.

“I know,” she mutters.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s just…” she trails off. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to resolve this. I don’t know how to find closure and just move on. I’m just…trapped.”

Callum holds her tight and feels her arms move around his neck. For the longest time, neither of them say anything. Neither of them has to. It took a while for Callum to figure out that Rayla didn’t need or want him to provide her a solution. That she didn’t need him to say anything to show he understands or sympathizes. That she didn’t need him to say or do anything at all.

All she wants is for him to remind her that she’s loved. That he absolutely adores her with every fiber of his being, and that he will _never_ stop adoring her. Callum understands that now, and he holds her with the hope that this is enough for now.

He loses track of time, but eventually, Rayla speaks.

“You should get going,” she says. “Today’s the day, as I recall.”

“I want to stay with you, Rayla.”

She shakes her head. “No. You have somewhere you need to be today.”

“Rayla, I can—”

“No,” she cuts him off. “I know it’s important to you. I won’t keep you here just because I had another bad dream.”

Callum sighs. There’s no use arguing with her. He knows her well enough to know when she’s made up her mind.

Rayla lifts her head and looks at him. “It’s time. You visit them on this day every year, and you’re not stopping on my watch.”

He smiles. Just as he supports her, Rayla will never let him forget those who matter most. But he feels a twinge of melancholy building within him.

“I just…sometimes wish it wasn’t just once a year. They were always worried about me growing up, that I wouldn’t fit in here, that I wouldn’t be able to grow into my own. Maybe, if they could just see me now, and see that I made it…they could be proud.”

Rayla’s look grows solemn. “Callum, they always knew you’d make it in the end. And they would have been so, _so_ proud of you.”

She brushes a tear from his face and kisses his forehead, which gives him the strength to rise from the bed. He quickly gets ready, puts on his clothes, and steps onto the balcony. Callum takes a breath and stretches out his arms.

“Manus…Pluma…Volantus.”

Callum extends his wings and takes flight, heading south. Toward the Valley of Graves.

***

The Valley is a short flight from the castle, nestled against a mountain range and a lake. As Callum descends, he notices a cold draft flowing through the wind tunnel created by the statues around him. Yet the cold he feels was not from the elements.

His parents were cremated, yet these giant stony fixtures are all that remain to remind others that they once lived. Along with generations of Katolis’ kings and queens, here their memory was etched forever, where the sun can shine upon them, and the rain can beat down against them.

Callum lands right next to his mother’s statue, and on the other side, a figure of King Harrow—his _dad_ , he corrects himself—stood beside her. When he and Ez returned home from the Storm Spire, one of the first things Ezran did was erect a bust of their father next to their mother.

_It’s what she would have wanted_ , they both agreed.

As his wings turn back to arms, Callum lights a candle and kneels before them. He takes deep, calming breaths, his mother’s words echoing in his mind.

_To know something truly and deeply_ , she told him, _you must know it with your hand, head, and heart. Mind, Body, and Spirit._

He focuses on her words, reflecting on their meaning and feeling the Primal Energy around him.

Callum stays with them. It’s only in moments such as these, as he enters a deep meditation before them in the Valley of Graves, that he genuinely feels like he’s with his mom and dad.

_Mind, Body, and Spirit_

He feels the wind blow between his parents’ memorial.

_Mind, Body, and Spirit_

The air carries the sound of the waterfall behind him.

_Mind, Body, and Spirit_

Callum hears footsteps approaching and senses a familiar presence even before opening his eyes.

Aunt Amaya.

He stands up and beams at her. His aunt smiles gently at his as she extends her arms. Callum runs up and embraces her, and as they separate, Callum signs as he speaks.

“What? You’re not going to lift me up like you used to?”

She chuckles. _You’ve gotten a little too big for that_ _I’m afraid,_ she signs.

“I’m glad to see you’re back from Lux Aurea,” Callum crosses his arms. “I was hoping to get a chance at a rematch one of these days.”

Amaya tilts her head. _I didn’t know you were so eager to lose again._

“Lose?!” he laughs. “You won on a technicality! I’ll get you next time!”

In truth, it was a close match. Callum and Amaya had sparred a few weeks ago. No magic, no swords, just hand-to-hand combat. And even though Callum wasn’t able to land a single blow, he was still able to prolong the fight for over forty minutes. Her defenses were unbreachable, but he was much too fast for her. Nevertheless, Amaya wore him down and until she eked out a win by knocking him out of the ring.

It was a little frustrating for Callum. As he learned spells and magic, he trained for years to make sure his body and his spirit could keep up with his mind. Yet, even so, their tussle is a reminder that he’s still only the _second_ best martial artist in the Kingdom.

_You’ve changed so much_ , she notes. _Before you left for Xadia, you were afraid of your own shadow._ Her hand reaches up to brush the side of his hair. _Now my little nephew has a bit of a competitive streak._

“You could say I get it from you and mom,” Callum smiles.

Amaya gives him a shrug. _Perhaps you have a bit of your birth father as well._

Callum’s smile fades. She hadn’t brought up his birth father in years. It reminds her too much of the family they’ve both lost, and Amaya would rather live in the present—with him, Ezran, and Janai.

The curiosity is overwhelming him now.

“What was he like?” He presses her. “Mom talked about him every now and then, but she never said much. I…only vaguely remember him. I can draw him quite well, but I want to know _who_ he was.”

She sighs but gives in. _How about I’ll tell you how he met your mother?_

He nods eagerly, so she continues. _Many years before you were born, when your mom and I were both in the army, your father was the captain of a frigate, and sailed in the Southern Point Sea._ _He traveled with a pretty eccentric crowd_. _I remember his first mate even had a talking parrot!_

“…wait, that’s oddly familiar,” Callum points out, but then trails off.

_He met Sarai_ _after your grandfather, the King, ordered him to give us, along with a company of soldiers, a lift across the sea._

Amaya smiles and gives a heartfelt sigh. Callum loves how much joy he can see on her face now. It must make her so happy to relive these memories.

_They couldn’t stand each other at the beginning. Your father thought all Katolian soldiers, including your mother and me, were just bloodthirsty brutes. Your mother took one look at him and thought he was a reckless idiot. They spent hours each day just arguing. But when they ran out of things to argue about, they just talked. And when they talked, they bonded._

Amaya’s eyes gaze over to her sister’s statue. _And by the time the voyage was over, your father didn’t want to go back to sea. He decided to stay with Sarai and build a life with her._

Callum feels a tinge of guilt in his chest. Because he knew that, in the end, they were only together for two years. Because he and Amaya might be the only two people left in the world who even remember him. Because he wants to remember him, and yet feels like it’s a betrayal to the man who raised him, the man who’s edifice stands behind them.

Yet Amaya just gives him a comforting hand on his shoulder. _You have his eyes, Callum_.

This does little to comfort him. “I wish I had known him,” he mutters.

_He was the best sailor in the Five Kingdoms_ , she signs. _When the time came, he became a fearless warrior…_

Callum watches as his aunt struggles to contain the outbreak of emotion, but he sees her shed tears. The first time he’s _ever_ seen her cry.

_…and he was a good friend_.

The young mage wants to pressure her for more details, but for the first time in his life, he sees Amaya as vulnerable, and he’s at a loss. He’s so unused to seeing Amaya this way, that he worries what would happen if he pushes her.

She senses his hesitation. _Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it? When you turn nineteen, we’ll talk about your father. I promise._

Callum lets the topic go for now. “I’m really happy that you’re here,” he smiles.

His aunt kneels before the tomb with Callum, Amaya lights a candle and they each meditate in silence. 

Though, for people like them, even silence can speak far more than mere words.


	3. Nuance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crown weighs heavily on Ezran, who tries to balance ruling with mending his relationship with his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huuge shoutout to nakoruko, who created the piece of fan art used in this chapter!

Sitting in the throne room, the young king continually fiddles with the crown on his head as his advisers talk. Ezran’s father once told him that every building is constructed stone by stone and that the same may be said of kingdoms and dynasties. Created and developed by many kings and queens, each of whom builds upon those who preceded them. Just as it fell on Harrow to place another stone in the great bastion of Katolis, so too does it fall on Ezran to carve his own. And to keep the entire edifice from crumbling.

And even in this era of peace, that task brings new challenges every day.

“Our ambassador has returned from Neolandia,” continues Opeli. “King Ahling refused to meet with her but relayed a message through his High Mage.”

Ez rolls his eyes. “Figures. Go on.”

Opeli nods. “The king _would_ be willing to attend the Blue Moon ceremony…but on one condition.”

“Does he…does he mean…?” Ezran struggles, trying to interpret Opeli’s worried look. “I don’t think I understand.”

The High Cleric gives a sigh. “He wishes to bring his entire court with him. As well as guards, archers, and a battalion of knights. King Ahling claims to not feel safe nor welcome here.”

Ezran purses his lips. “So, he wants to bring a small army, then.” He ascertains. _And his entire court means his High Mage will be joining him_ , the thinks. _That might be a harder pill to swallow._

“To be honest, your Majesty,” Opeli continues. “It may be worth it. We’ve traded hostility from Xadia with hostility from Evenere, Del Bar, and Neolandia. If we ease tensions with King Ahling, the other kingdoms may follow. If all he wants is to bring his court and some soldiers, that may be a small price to pay.”

“Still,” Ezran thinks out loud. “I think we should be extra careful. The first time I met Ahling was years ago, and he was always nice and friendly to me. But when I saw him again at the meeting of the Pentarchy a few years back, there was just…hate, seeping from him. Like I had personally killed Kasef. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to start a fight like his son did.”

“You think so?” asks Opeli. “He couldn’t be that wicked.”

Ezran takes off his crown and looks at his reflection through it. “He’s angry, and he’s grieving. When my father decided to kill Avizandum, I doubt he thought he thought it was wicked.

Opeli gives him a soft smile and places a hand on Ezran’s. “Let’s think about your trip to the Moon Nexus! Aren’t you excited to see Lujanne again?”

She smiles slyly. “And what about that girl you’ve told me about?”

Ezran lights up. “Oh yea!” He never forgot Ellis. It would be great to see her again after all these years.

His thoughts are interrupted by Marcos entering the throne room.

“Your Grace,” he pronounces. “I have found Prince Callum. He’s in the training courtyard with Soren and Corvus.”

“Oh!” Ezran raises his eyebrows. “And which one is he sparring with this time?”

“…both.”

Ezran lets out a sigh. _Of course he is._

“Did you want me to…?” Marcos begins.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Ezran interrupts. “I’ll go and fetch him myself.”

_That Callum would be in the training courtyard on his own free will would be strange_ , Ezran thinks. _Had he not already changed so much over the years._

Ezran passes Callum and Rayla’s room on his way to the courtyard. It used to be Callum and _Ezran’s_ room. However, after Ez moved into his father’s chambers and Rayla moved into the castle, he noticed how he and his brother started to gradually drift apart.

He has had a harder time connecting with Callum over the years. As king, Ezran’s duties kept pulling him away from his older brother. Once, Callum was the responsible one, but now he wanted only to explore both Xadia and his own potential, while Ezran was forced to carry the burden of ruling a kingdom. That has caused a rift in recent years, and argument after argument inched them further away from one another.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. But it started as small disagreements between them here or there, and now Ez is always arguing with Callum. They were inseparable before, so Ezran is not sure how they’ve let so much distance grow between them.

Part of the distance came from Callum’s frequent travels to Xadia. Each trip, he explores more of the continent and the magic it holds. Each time, he tracks down Ibis and the nomadic mages of the skywing elves, following their migration patterns along the movements of various storms and cold fronts.

From what Ezran could pick up from Callum’s tales, the sky mages must live a monastic life. They gain a deeper spiritual connection with the Sky Primal through meditation, but also through physical training. Callum said they believe that by pushing themselves to the point of exhaustion and focusing on their rapid breathes, they cultivate their understanding of the Sky Arcanum.

With them, Callum had trained endlessly, pushing his mind, body, and spirit to work as one. And each time he came home, Callum returns a little bit different, wiser, and more runes on his person, but more unfamiliar with the ways of his own people.

Ez first noticed Callum’s unease on his sixteenth birthday celebration; he saw how visibly uncomfortable his brother was in such a loud and luxurious a party. He blushed at the sight of people singing high praises to the “Crown Prince Callum,” and didn’t even have a bite of his plate of summer fruit!

Callum always loved his birthday feasts. They were a reminder of how, at the end of the day, the kingdom considered him royalty. Hearing him complain pomp and circumstance was…new for Ezran.

“This was nice and all,” he told Ezran, placing an arm over him and Rayla. “But could we try a more private birthday party next year?”

Ezran noticed how much more Callum valued his alone time. He often found Callum practicing his form in the royal garden or meditating for hours without interruption. He’s become unrecognizable to so many in the castle. On one occasion, a Crownguard tried to shoo him away from the garden while he was meditating, thinking he was a trespassing monk.

Not that Ezran could blame the guard; Callum had indeed become unrecognizable.

Ez finds Callum in the courtyard, just as Marcos had said. Indeed, sparring with both Corvus and Soren. Rayla stands at the sidelines, so he walks over to join her.

“I thought _you’d_ be the one in the ring right now,” Ezran whispers to her.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’ll jump in soon! I got dibs to fight the winner.” Rayla crosses her arms. “And it’s starting to look pretty obvious who that will be.”

Turning his attention to the arena, it looks as though Rayla is right. There is a serenity on the prince’s face—a furrow of concentration in his brow but paired with relaxed eyes. Jumping and rebounding off the cobblestone, he manages to make avoiding his opponents look effortless.

Ezran can imagine Corvus and Soren’s frustration, which was apparent on their faces. Even teamed together, Corvus and Soren can’t even so much as land a blow on the young mage. Every attack is parried by Callum’s staff or dodged with a simple yet precise motion of his body. Sky mages are renowned for their agility and reflexes, so it’s no wonder that even cornered, Callum swiftly and effortlessly eludes the duo.

Suddenly, as Ezran came to the threshold of the arena, their eyes meet. Callum spots Ezran out of the corner of his eye and gives him a soft smile. As Ez blinks, Callum had vanished from between Soren and Corvus, who smash into one another. Just _seeing_ them crash looked painful.

“The hell you kicking me for?!” Corvus groans.

Soren shoots him a glare. “Relax, Corvus! It was an honest mistake!”

Ezran scans the courtyard, but his older brother is nowhere in sight. But his heart seizes up as Ez feels someone place a hand on his shoulder. The startled king spins around and sees Callum.

_How could he be this fast now?_

“Okay, that’s enough for now, boys!” he says to Corvus and Soren, both visibly irritated. Callum’s level of confidence is still something Ezran can’t really wrap his head around.

Rayla smirks as she grabs her blades. “Alright then, mage,” she playfully banters. “Ready for round two? Don’t think I won’t be able to keep up!”

Callum teasingly extends a hand and motions for her to come toward him. “Alright, elf,” he says with a broad grin on his face. “Show me what you got!”

Before they can begin, Ez raises his hand.

“As much as I would love to see this,” he explains. “This is probably best for another day. We will be having dinner very soon.”

Rayla looks almost as confused as Callum. “But it’s still midday! You never have dinner this early!”

“I insist,” the king continues and points at Callum and Rayla. “And I expect you both to be there! There’s a lot to talk about.”

Ezran looks over at Soren and Corvus and motions his head back to the castle entrance. The two men complied and stood on each side of their king. As the two best warriors in the Crownguard, Ez feels safest when they are as close to his person as possible.

Within a quarter of an hour, the dining room was arranged with the finest foods the kingdom has to offer—a thick soup of barley and venison. Salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums sprinkled with crushed nuts. Bowls of strawberries, peaches, and Xadian oranges. The chefs provided trout fresh from the river as the main course, and blackberry oatcake for dessert. Ezran himself ensured the meal was to everyone’s liking, to soften the blow that came next.

Callum, as it turns out, had quite the appetite. Not for trout or venison, of course (since returning home, he has refused to eat the flesh of any animal). But the prince helped himself to many servings of sweetgrass salad and fruits. He sat across the table from Ez; the young king notices how he laughs with the love of his life. To his left sat Soren, who places a hand on his brother’s shoulder and whispers something that caused him to snicker.

After some time, Ezran stands from his chair, his motion silencing everyone at the table.

“So, I’ve got something of an announcement for everyone! Rayla already knows a little bit regarding what I’m about to say. But the Crow Master—sorry, its Crow _Lord_ now—has been sending messages to and from the Moon Nexus. I’m happy to say that we will be attending a Moonshadow ritual, called the Blue Moon ceremony, next week!”

The assembled group applauds. Ezran notes Rayla beaming at him.

“Great!” Callum exclaims. “I’ve always wanted to see a Blue Moon ceremony…uh, what’s a Blue Moon ceremony?”

Ez chuckles. “We can discuss the details later. The silver lining for you is that you can finally learn some Moon Magic from Lujanne!”

His older brother nods eagerly. “Oh, yea! And this time, she won’t have an excuse not to give me some pointers!”

Ezran is pleased that Callum is enjoying the moment. The next piece of news might not be so easy.

“So, there is a bit of nuance to the situation,” he begins. “To mend ties with Neolandia, I’ve decided to personally invite King Ahling. He told me he would only be willing to go if he could bring his court as well…including his High Mage.”

He notices Callum blink as he processes the information. “So…you’re going to say no, right?”

Ez takes a deep breath. Ever since he learned the Sky Arcanum, Callum had taken a much harder stance against Dark Magic. Perhaps him becoming one of the magical creatures who can be picked apart for spells had something to do with it.

The young king grimaces as he shakes his head and breaks the news. “I’m sorry. There’s no other way.”

Even from across the room, Ezran can feel Callum’s heart stop momentarily, as his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

“Y-you can’t be serious!” he shouts. “The High Mage of Neolandia is probably the most powerful dark mage in the world! Bringing her to the Moon Nexus is a terrible idea!”

Ezran feels a bit lightheaded but nevertheless persists. “Well, to be fair, it wouldn’t be the first time a dark mage was brought to the Moon Nexus, since you showed Claudia around all those years ago.”

He realizes his mistake as Callum rises to his feet. “…how dare you,” he says softly, though his quiet rage practically subsumed the room.

Ez shakes his head and raises his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean it that way! Just that the last time there was a Dark Mage at the Moon Nexus, everything turned out okay!”

“Turned out okay?” Callum repeats. “Ez, we could have gotten captured or killed! I learned my lesson; nothing good can come of bringing a dark mage so close to the Moon Nexus. You’re fourteen, Ez! You should have outgrown suggesting boneheaded ideas by now.”

Ez felt his heart rate spike, his vision getting blurry with white anger. He feels his knees lock in place. Callum has been condescending to him before, but it’s when his older brother insults in public that _really_ sets him off.

“Boneheaded? Do you really think you can talk to me that way? Your _king_?!”

They each walk around the table to meet the other. Soren leaps to his feet and jumps in between them, holding each brother back with a hand.

“Okay, okay guys,” he says cordially, playing his usual role as the chummy peacemaker. “Maybe we’ve all said things here that we didn’t mean. So, let’s just relax, take a deep breath, and—”

“Your king?” Callum repeats bitterly. “My _apologies_ , your Grace. Sometimes I confuse you for my brother!”

Before Ez could clap back, he sees Rayla’s hand appear on Soren’s shoulder. As they exchange a look, Soren nods and steps away.

“Ez, I’m thrilled you’re bringing us to the Moon Nexus,” she says. “But I wished you talked about King Ahling to us before. We’re all _family_ , the three of us!” Bait croaks from in between Ezran’s legs.

“Er, four of us,” she awkwardly replies, before looking over at Soren. She smiles warmly and doesn’t need him to correct her. “No, _five_ of us. We don’t keep each other in the dark about anything. Negotiating with Ahling should have involved all of us.”

“Exactly, I—” Callum begins but is quickly cut off as Rayla points a finger to his chest.

“But _you_ are overreacting, Callum. Did you forget how you once tried Dark Magic before learning an Arcanum?”

He went red with shame as he tries to defend himself. “It was a mistake, Rayla! I would _never_ —” she stops him with her hand.

“It doesn’t matter what you did before,” she says. A wistful look in her eyes tells Ezran that this isn’t the first time she’s thought about that moment with Pyrrah, so many years ago.

“Claudia maybe thinks Dark Magic is all that humans can do,” Soren says, crossing his arms. “Callum, you know she’s wrong. You’ve _proven_ her wrong.”

Rayla eagerly nods. “Which means that if the High Mage of Neolandia _does_ come to the Moon Nexus, maybe she can learn that too!”

She smiles at Callum. “You could show her a new way!”

“Yes,” Callum whispers. “Yes, maybe you’re right.

He shoots an annoyed look at Ezran. “I suppose I should get ready for that.” Callum takes a step back and takes a bow, his eyes never leaving Ezran’s.

“My king,” he says dryly.

As he departs, Rayla gives a worried look to Ez before running after them. Soren flanks Ezran and puts a hand on the young king’s shoulder.

“What happened to you two?” he mutters.

Ez bends down to pick up Bait. “I wish I knew,” he softly replies.


End file.
